


Tommy Knows: "Unfinished Business"

by ThomE_Gemcity_06



Series: Eloquence of a Secret [19]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon-divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s1e19 - “Unfinished Business", Family Drama, Friendship, Gen, Secrets, Tommy Knows!, Tommy! in the Field, casework, relationship drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11333718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThomE_Gemcity_06/pseuds/ThomE_Gemcity_06
Summary: As past Hood-business resurfaces, Tommy's gets prosecuted for his own past and he revaluates his contributions to Team Hood.





	Tommy Knows: "Unfinished Business"

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow, its episodes or its characters.  
> Tag: Season 1, Episode 19 - "Unfinished Business"

**aRROW**

"I can't believe Lance just accused me of dealing in the club!" Tommy proceeded Oliver down the stairs into the lair. "He even had the balls to accuse me in front of his daughter." He went straight to the workout mat and punched the punch bag without pause. "I thought we turned over a new leaf once Laurel and I decided to stop trying to pursue a relationship and just be friends." He pulled back his left fist.

"Hey," Oliver quickly intercepted, stopping his punch. "Hey. You just got the cast off, Tommy, the last thing you need to do right now is re-injure yourself."

Tommy took his left hand back, and kicked the bag with a frustrated shout before Oliver forced him to back off and into a chair, his chest panting heavily. "The Count's down for the count, how is this stuff back on the streets? It's not like he made a cookbook. That's his star recipe, his only recipe, he wouldn't have let it get into an amateur’s hands before he turned Fruit Loops."

"I don't know yet, but we're going to figure it out." Oliver patted his shoulder. "You good?"

"Look, my nights are busy, my days are busy. I'm finally off the pain meds, maybe now I can finally get a decent night's sleep."

It felt like he was burning at both ends; losing control of his plates. It was ironic because he wasn't even the one who went out at night in a hood, he was still the benchwarmer. But he was okay with it, seeing as he had to run the club, attend his Advanced First Aid classes, he had more woman in his life than he could remember. And he recently etched out a corner in his schedule for Malcolm, trying to get back to that place they were in the hospital room when he started to talk before Moira had interrupted; of course, all without the others knowing.

Now this resurgence of Vertigo… Something they had all believed put to bed three months ago.

"Alright," Diggle returned, wearing his thug disguise, Felicity quickly following after. "The person-of-colour has successfully purchased your drugs."

"How will we know the tracker is active?" Oliver questioned, his attention on the pair.

Felicity reclaimed her computer chair. "It already is. I'm getting a good signal off the monofilament strips we placed in the bills."

"Drug money's like a pigeon." Diggle said. "Always finds it way home."

"And we can follow the money back to The Count." Oliver nodded.

"Okay." Felicity turned her chair. "But what are you going to do with the Vertigo you bought?"

Tommy stood. "We could always just add it to my stash."

"What?" Felicity questioned as he approached Diggle.

"Haven't you heard? I'm dealing Vertigo out of the club and to our clients."

Felicity looked startled by the announcement. "How long have I been gone? It was just a bathroom break."

"Tommy." Oliver said in a warning tone.

Tommy ignored him and took the dime bag off of Diggle. "These don't even look like the other Vertigo pills. I'm telling you, Oliver, The Count's escape is just a coincidence. This batch of Vertigo is sub-standard to the previous pills."

"I thought you said you've never taken Vertigo," Diggle crossed his arms.

Tommy gave an exasperated sigh. "I haven't," he handed the pills back. "I'm just putting the facts into a legible concept. _That_ is not the work of The Count, I'm telling you. What you all do with that information is your decision," he backed off with raised hands.  "I'll be upstairs. We've got a supply delivery coming in that I need to oversee."

**...**

Tommy was just starting his checklist when headlights flashed and drew his attention. He groaned internally and ground his teeth. He was not in the mood for this, not from their last encounter at Laurel's and not with the scene in the lair.

"Come to accuse me of dealing again, Det. Lance?"

"Eric Messner." Lance ignored his accusation.

Tommy blinked at him blankly, "Who?"

"Stop playing games, Merlyn. You know exactly who he is,"

"I really don't."

"He's a zoning commissioner for Starling City. And a notoriously corrupt one at that. There's a discrepancy in the club account--"

"What exactly is it that you want from me?" Tommy demanded.

Lance narrowed his eyes. "We can clear this whole thing up right now," he swept his arm. "Just let me have a look around and it'll clear this whole thing up."

"Absolutely." Tommy sneered. "Right after you get a warrant."

"That's how you want to play this?"

"Yeah. Learned that one from your daughter."

Lance shook his head. "I'll be back, Merlyn."

"Yeah, yeah." Tommy uttered, turning his attention back to his clipboard. "Always ready with an accusation in the barrel and a prosecuting finger on a hair-trigger."

Tonight was turning out to be a very bad night, and it wasn't even close to being over. As soon as the headlights vanished, Tommy dropped the clipboard and ran to the lair.

"Guys, we got a problem!" he started, but stopped short. The lair was unoccupied. "Seriously?" he shouted in frustration. He paced, fingers in his hair as he tried to think fast. Team Hood had really bad timing when he needed them. He sent a 9-1-1 text to Oliver, but he didn't have time to wait around for Oliver to come swooping to the rescue.

Lance was going to work fast with getting that warrant for the club, trying to beat Tommy before he could hide the evidence. And that was exactly what Tommy was going to do. It certain wasn't the evidence that Lance would be expecting, but it was illegal all the same. He had a few hours at most, he had to work fast.

**...**

Tommy returned to the bar, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He'd finally finished in the basement and he just wanted to sit and have a drink and curse Oliver and Lance while he did it. He leaned across the bar, grabbing a bottle at random from behind and sitting on a stool. He'd just cracked it open and took a pull when Lance came, just not the one that he was expecting.

"Hey," Tommy said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it a early too be drinking?" Laurel claimed a stool next to him.

"It's I-need-it o'clock somewhere." Tommy took another swallow. "Want something? It's on the house."

"I knew it," she said. "After my dad dropped by... he drove you to drink."

"No." He shook his head. "The first time he drove me to work. It was the _second_ time..." he waved his drink in answer.

"What?"

"Oh, yeah. Came by trying to get into the party without an invitation. When he comes back, something tells me he's going to have it whether I let him or not."

"Tommy." Oliver arrived before Laurel could say anything. "I came as soon as I got your text."

Tommy put the drink on the bar and stood. "You need to cheek your texts more often, buddy. We got a problem with the... thing."

"Your problems are just starting, Merlyn." Lance interrupted, joining the party with two uniforms and a troubling piece of court ordered paper. "As requested, a warrant to search these premises."

"I can't believe you're doing this." Laurel took the warrant permit.

"Believe it." Lance said. "I asked nicely the first time, now I'm knocking the door down."

Oliver was taken by surprise, but he quickly reasserted his business-face. "Detective, I may not an attorney but on what grounds are you searching my club?"

"On the grounds of your general manager bribed a government official to keep him from inspecting the entirety of your building."

 _Oh, shit._ Tommy realized in an internal freak-out. He had completely forgotten about that (even after Lance brought it up earlier) and he had forgotten to tell Oliver about it, too. It had been after the Firemen Gala and the place had gone up in flames. The club had to be re-inspected, but Oliver's vigilante lair was set up in the basement of the factory. Having no option and out of time, Tommy had gone Shady-Businessman; if his father knew, it probably would have made him proud.

"What?" Oliver cast a look at Tommy.

"By that reaction I'm going to assume that your buddy didn't let you in on that little transaction." Lance remarked. "Will your reaction be as genuine if I told you he's selling Vertigo out of the club?"

"I can assure you, that he's not." Oliver said firmly. "That's not the kind of club we're running. We do our best to keep that kind of thing out of here, but unfortunately things slip through the cracks."

"And I just bet the two of you love those cracks." Lance noted with disgust.

"Ollie, it's valid." Laurel folded the powerful piece of paper.

"Thank you." Lance said. "Now that we've established that _I_ am at least by-the-book —A sub-level is not listed on the inspections floor plan. However, I pulled county records; there's something down there. I wanna see for myself what it is." Lance was already making his way down the back hall and the others were forced to follow. "Oh, look at that." They arrived at Pandora's door. "Open the door."

Tommy had managed a quick touch to his elbow on the journey down the hall and to the basement door, trying to convey his readiness for this very situation and to trust, but Oliver was getting hit with flight-or-fight overload right now at the unexpected situation he found himself in. He couldn't help one last stall, "You're making a mistake."

"No," Lance shook his head. "You are if you don't open that door."

"We have nothing to hide." Tommy said confidently.

"I said open the door."

One last glance at Tommy, Oliver punched in the code and a lead the way into the darkness of the lair. Tommy easily found the main light box and flipped the switch. The place lighted to a view of—a regular basement. Oliver shot Tommy a complicatedly grateful look.

"The place is kind of a mess," Tommy said. "I've been using it to store the bulk of our inventory."

"What's in the boxes?" Lance questioned, already approaching the center pallet.

"Why don't you have a look?"

Lance opened several boxes and only found expensive bottles of whisky.

"Well, if prohibition was still in effect," Laurel commented drily, her arms crossed. "You might have the basis of a criminal complaint."

"Would you like to have a look at the rest of the crates?" Tommy suggested generously, hiding his thrumming heart as he waited for the answer he hoped for, otherwise they were screwed up the river and back again.

Lance checked another crate to the side and only got drink ware. He turned to the manager, "So, if you don't have anything to hide, why didn't you want the inspector down here?"

"Well, the ventilation system in this place hasn't been updated since the 60's." Tommy sold the lie which could just as easily be the truth had he actually let the inspector down here. "I mean, we shouldn't even be open."

"Yeah." Lance didn't seem happy at his finding of innocence. "And the whole song-and-dance show?"

Tommy looked steadily at him. "A leopard and its spots, right? That's what you wanted. The problem is... I was never a leopard to begin with. I was always wearing stripes. And I never did too good with whole... lone-thing. What animal am I? 'Cause it certainly isn't a tiger."

Lance had no reply to that and he and the two uniforms found their own way out.

"I'm sorry," Laurel said as they made there way back upstairs. "I had no idea my dad was going to do something like this."

"He was right on one count though," Tommy sighed with shame. "I did bribe that guy."

But Laurel shook her head. "This was about our past; he wouldn't have brought out the jackboots otherwise. I really am sorry. Maybe we all can have lunch sometime?"

"That would be great, Laurel." Oliver said genuinely and the pair waved her out.

Tommy promptly slumped onto the closest cocktail table with and exhaustive relief.

"Thank you." Oliver sat across from him.

Tommy raised his head. "What for?"

"For being here. If you weren't with me, I would be in prison right now. Before now. You saved me, so many times that I've lost count."

"I told you that I would be your beard, your chameleon disguise for the world." Tommy told him.

Oliver shook his head. "It's more than just that. You've gone beyond what's expected. I was so scarred when you found out my secret you would turn your back on me, condemn me. I know it was just fear and self-doubt talking—but it would break me if you weren't with me, thought me a murderer."

"It's okay to be afraid. Just don't let it show and don't let it control you." Tommy murmured. He took a breath. "I'm afraid all the time, Oliver. I've just gotten good a disguising it over the years, just like you, too. Every time you put on The Hood and go out. But instead of freaking you out with my freak-out, I do something useful, like run the club. It's one less thing on your plate that you have to worry about and distract you. It's something that I want to do, and it's something that I think I'm good at."

"You are, Tommy. This club wouldn't be here without you. You were right when you said I didn't know crap about running a club, but the same could not be said for you. This is your club more than it is mine. I'm just the money and the name, but you're the soul of this place."

"It means a lot that you actually said it." Tommy admitted.

"I'm here for you, too, Tommy. I always will be." Oliver promised. "You are my best-friend in life. My blood-brother."

"Your friendship saved me from my own island a long time ago, Oliver. Way before we even knew islands existed in that sense."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, letting it be still and settle after the harrowing events of the issued warrant. 

"Since we're having such a great moment here," Tommy spoke up. "There was actually something that I've been meaning to talk to you about?"

"Actually, can it wait?" A light bulb suddenly lit up behind Oliver's eyes. "I think you were right. I need to call Felicity. I think I know how to get a lead on The Count. I believe that you were right about him no longer being the producer of this new Vertigo, but he's definitely a big part of this puzzle still." He pulled out his cell phone and headed back towards the back hall.

"Sure," Tommy heaved a sigh and pillowed his head on his folded arms. "It'll probably be better if we have it when you're not as distracted."

"Thanks, buddy!" he called back distractedly.

**X**

"Felicity?" Tommy called as he jumped down the stairs. "What's wrong? What's the 9-1-1?"

Felicity was set up on a single table with her tablet, working off the Ethernet cable. "Long story still pretty long: Diggle's having a secret meeting that Oliver doesn't know about, about Deadshot—and I can't get a hold of him."

"Shit, Felicity, that's not good!" Tommy exclaimed.

"I know!" she cried. "I can't get a hold of Diggle and I lost comms. with Oliver--"

"Why didn't you lead with that? Never mind! Give me a location on Oliver, Felicity." Tommy ordered, quickly putting in an earwig. He started slipping his knives onto his person. "Use the tracker you helped me put in his boot. Remember?"

"Shoot! I can't believe I forgot about that." She cursed quietly. "Alright. He _is_ at Starling County Institute for Mental Health. Or at least his boot is. But it stands to reason that Oliver is where his boot is. Tommy," she turned to him. "What are you going to do?"

"You are going to talk me to his location through comms. once I get to the institute." Tommy informed her, tucking a berretta into his waistband. The last time he held one, he killed someone. It wasn't something he wanted to do again, but just like last time, if it was a choice between Oliver and someone else, there was really no thought needed. "And I am going go... and save Oliver." He took a deep breath and quickly went for the South ground exit. "Keeping calling Diggle and send his ass our way!" he called before the door slammed shut.

" _This is a time when speed-dial is our friend,"_ her voice came over the comm.

**...**

"Felicity, talk to me." Tommy said quietly through the comm., staring down the dim, dank basement tunnel, a throwing knife ready in each hand. It had been surprisingly easy to break in, which he was grateful for at the moment, and would be concerned about later.

" _From the basement blueprints of the building that I was able to pull,"_ Felicity answered, " _Oliver's tracker puts him north-west, 20 meters, then go north 5--"_

"I was never a Boy Scout, Felicity." Tommy deadpanned. "Talk to me in English, okay? I'm assuming you mean straight, seeing as either left or right are walls." He started forward.

" _You are definitely not a Boy Scout,"_ Felicity remarked, " _Not that you wouldn't look adorable in a neckerchief or those little shorts. Not that I’m picturing what you would look like in little shorts, now or otherwise. Not that you wouldn't look good if you did-- and yes, straight is a very accurate alternative."_

"Alright." Tommy paused at the corner, out of sight at the connecting junction. "Turning right, right?"

" _Right._ " Felicity agreed. " _Are you sure you're not a closet Boy Scout?"_

"Definitely not." Tommy stopped at a doorway as he heard voices. "I hear voices," he whispered.

 _"Can you see Oliver?"_ her own voice was hushed and concerned in return.

Tommy quickly peeked inside. He silently cursed. "I can't see them, but I can hear them." Tommy slipped into the room, carefully slipping through the slit in the plastic sheet that was hung up. He saw the Vertigo cooking station and beyond that, two of the hospital's staff crowded around a medical chair. He couldn't see Oliver, but he would recognize those green leathers anywhere. "Diggle better be on his way, Felicity, because I can't wait for him."

Felicity response was drown out as Oliver triggered one of his explosive arrows. In the perusing confusion, Tommy took advantage and jumped onto the back of the large male nurse, his knives stabbing into the meaty flesh of his shoulders. The nurse roared in pain and stumbled back, crushing Tommy into the metal cabinets that lined one wall.

Tommy lost his anchor on the knives and the large man. He quickly reached for the berretta in his belt as the burly nurse shook him off. He was bringing to weapon up, ready to pull the trigger when the man spun, knocking the gun away with a beefy arm. It misfired, the bullet burying in the concrete wall opposite.

" _Tommy? Tommy!"_ Felicity was shouting worriedly in his ear.

The guy grabbed his shirt and his belt and then proceeded to literally throw him across the room. He crashed into one of the cooking tables; beakers and jars smashed to the ground. Tommy groaned, pulling himself up when he was struck across the back with a stray IV pole.

Tommy tried to roll away under the cover of the steel table as the nurse went for another strike, trying to fight the seize in his back. He was sure he wasn't going to make it—but against all he did, and much to his confusion he didn't hear the empty strike against the floor, instead a heavy thump. When he looked over, he saw the large nurse dead on the floor where he had just been.

"Done hiding under the table, Merlyn?" Diggle said.

Tommy looked out to see the bodyguard present, dropping a pair of defibrillator paddles. That explained a lot. He picked up Tommy's gun.

"Check your phone more often, pal." Tommy panted as he accepted the offered hand up. "This isn't a 9 to 5 kind of gig; it's on-call 24/7. Felicity, Diggle's here." He reported.

Diggle just gave a nod. "Where's Oliver?"

"Last I saw he was strapped to the scary chair." Tommy side-stepped Diggle. "Which he is no longer." He touched the broken leather cuffs as he looked around. "I was kind of getting pummelled by Donkey Kong over there to pay attention to much else. Shit!" he spotted the quiver on the floor, its arrows scattered; but he didn't see his bow. He picked up the injector arrow and showed Diggle, "This is a good thing, right? He was dosed, but he took the antidote."

"We should find him." Diggle said.

"There was another doctor here." Tommy grimaced at the green puddle and quickly gathered the arrows and quiver, and quickly followed the other man.

They found Oliver in the next room, standing over The Count, out of his basket, strapped to a similar chair as Oliver had been.

"Looks like I'm the last one standing. Sitting. Spinning." The Count said. "Something to do. What was I going to do? Memory not what it once was. Nothing what it once was. Is there a name on the gravestone. No. It's new and clean and waiting..." it was utter gibberish yet it sounded very ominous.

"Oliver?" Diggle asked.

Oliver looked over, and the pair shared a look. "We're finished here." He said.

"Let's get out of here." Tommy took Oliver's bow without trouble, which showed either how out of it Oliver was feeling or how trusting. "You two have a lot to talk about, I'm sure." He looked between Oliver and Diggle. "We all do, actually."

**X**

Tommy wanted nothing more than to load up on Advil and sleep for an entire day—but he needed to take advantage the drug accusation situation opened for him.

Tommy walked into his father's office. "I'd prefer it if we could skip the I-told-you-so's, but the nightclub wasn't really working out. Oliver and I are just too different in opinion. I need something that's... more to my pedigree." He looked to Malcolm at the window bay. "I want a job, the one I was always supposed to have. I'm done running. I want to come home." The lie was smooth on his tongue even as it tasted bitter.

"What you did with the club… It shows me some of what you're capable when you apply yourself. But I think you're capable of so much more than just club manager, Tommy." Malcolm turned to him. "The time for play is over."

"You told me before that there was so much that you wanted to tell me, to teach me." Tommy took a deep inhale. "I'm ready."

Malcolm gave him a steady, intense stare; Tommy did not fidget under its heavy weight, refused to look away from the challenge. A smirk upturned the corner of his dad's lips at his response. He stepped towards his son and embraced him, "Welcome home, son."

Tommy had been right; everyone had been against his plan, particularly Oliver and Felicity. But this was their only fashion for a lead on The Dark Archer, The Undertaking and everything else connected in the web. And Tommy was the only one in the position to do it.

f

**aRROW**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely better than when our best-friends in life broke up, right? I really love doing those Toliver heart-to-heart moments. :) That bit in the show where Tommy said it was because of the vents, I never really did believe that was genuine—so that was my take on it. What do you think putting Tommy in the frontline and at the enemy's side? 
> 
> **DELTED TEXT:**  
>  TOMMY: "I lie to you all the time."  
> OLIVER: "What?"  
> TOMMY: "You think I like it when you go out there? No. But what alternative is there? Do you think I can stand to lose you again? To have you alive and here, my best-friend in life. Just the thought makes me sick. Why do you think I couldn't let you rot in prison either? This is who your are now, we've both changed. I've accepted that and I hope you can see the same in me. I might not have been on an actual island but it sure as hell felt like it."  
> x


End file.
